


To Have, To Hold

by cosplaykisses



Series: Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Centaurs, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Slow Burn, kalashtar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 01:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18713947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosplaykisses/pseuds/cosplaykisses
Summary: After a fight gone wrong, Thelen needs a little bit of comfort.





	To Have, To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Thelen Hubalar: Mine all mine  
> Calenhad Nightshade: @kaztato / @kaz-arts on tumblr

“Alright, alright! Enough. We’ll go back to our lodgings. Just, let him go.” Calenhad muttered, watching as the tabaxi woman finally released Thelen’s prosthetic from her grip. Kalicea nearly tossed Thelen to the floor without a care in the world, allowing him to topple over onto his knees. She clapped her hands together, pleased as punch, only to turn on her heels and begin to skip out of the darkened tunnel they were gathered in. Katrina ran towards her father, the wires of his custom prosthetic poking from beneath the metal plating causing small sparks and whirs with the way they were nearly torn open. Out of habit, she began to look over the damage with skillful hands, despite being more worried than ever.

Calenhad was significantly more annoyed now with the situation, especially with the tabaxi’s attitude, and it was almost unbearable for him to stay so silent about it. “You know,” He shouted towards Kalicea, “all of this could have been easily avoided if you would’ve just talked to your fucking guards and--” But he couldn’t finish his sentence. He was frozen by the feeling of something weighing on his lower half; a hand, warm and real. Thelen, now being supported by Katrina on one side, had rested his hand on the centaur’s lower back. He looked to the younger with a tired expression, shaking his head.  _ No more, Calenhad. That’s enough. _

Were it anyone else, Calenhad would have delivered a swift horseshoe to the chest or face. Being touched by  _ anyone _ was his absolute last priority, but because the smaller of the two held familiarity with him, he could let it slide. Thelen looked exhausted, as if all the strength in his body was drained just from that one interaction. Thelen’s eyes looked more sunken in than before. As they began to make their way quietly out of the tunnel, Thelen stumbled over his own boots, the pain from his shoulder too loud to ignore.

“Do you need me to carry you old man?” Calenhad spoke uncharacteristically soft, even still with that cocky smile he held.

_ Y’know, that’d actually be really nice. _ Thelen didn’t refuse his offer at all, and with his daughter’s help, he was easily hoisted onto the centaur’s back. The walk was slow and careful, not much jostling, which Thelen was thankful for. The clipping of hooves on stone was comforting, it reminded him of his militia days when he’d spend hours on horseback, training and fighting. He took solace in that as his eyes fluttered shut, only for them to reopen when they were in front of his assigned door. Calenhad did his best to help Thelen down from his seat, making sure he was standing on his own two feet before he smiled once more.

“Try to relax a little, yeah? You already have a busted arm, I don’t need to come back to you seein’ that you broke your hip or shot off one of your toes.” Calenhad snarked, pulling a laugh from not only Katrina, but a small huff and a smile from Thelen. He nodded his head softly, and bid the centaur a good night. Perched on his bed, Katrina stayed with her father just long enough to unhook his arm and tell him repairs would be saved for the morning. They spoke quietly, their minds linking together so nothing actually needed saying. He needed his rest, as much as he could get, and he agreed.

After Katrina took her leave and he was left to the deafening silence again, however, Thelen knew well that he wasn’t going to be getting much rest. Thelen tried his damndest to avoid the contents of that small wooden box. It rested there on the nightstand, begging for his attention. He felt that wave of guilt wash over him as he opened the lid and did his best to single-handedly tie that cord around his tricep, and it only grew stronger as he loaded up his syringe. The bubbling neon red that filled the glass chamber was mystifying to him.  _ Just one dose wouldn’t hurt. I’ve had a long day, I deserve to feel a little more relaxed. I mean, I did nearly lose my arm again. It’ll be fine. _ He was lost in a trance trying to rationalize doping up while he had the chance. The thing that broke him out of his own head was Shasa’s voice.

**After everything you’ve been through, you still haven’t kicked the habit? You finally have your little girl back, you’ve been clean for months now, and you’re just gonna throw it away because a fight didn’t go your way?**

_ You’re not real. _ He could feel his grip around the plunger loosen just a bit as he closed his eyes.  _ This isn’t real, you’re gone. _

**This is why I took her away. Because** **_you_ ** **chose that poison over us.**

_ Stop it Shasa. _

**You’re going to lose her just like you lost me, you’re going to lose everyone because you’re a selfish, low-life addict, Thelen. You’re nothing.**

There was a crash of glass. Then another, and another after that. Thelen had thrown the syringe across the room, square into the door leading out of the bedroom, only to follow it with the bottle holding his vice. He couldn’t scream, so throwing things was the next best option. He made a wreck out of whatever was nearby him: the lamps, his clothes, the arm that lay dead and dormant on the nightstand. If he were home, he could have gone on for hours like this, taking his anger out on whatever caught his eye first…

But he wasn’t at home. He was trapped in this arena with no means of escape, framed for a crime he didn’t commit.

Which also meant that he was in this arena’s lodging area, by proxy meaning that he had neighbors who could hear everything that was going on. Most didn’t bother, this was a normal occurrence here, but one in particular grew tired of the noise and decided to put a stop to it.

Calenhad moved as quietly as a 9-foot centaur could down the hallway, passing each door until the crashing grew louder in front of Thelen’s own room. The energy that was radiating from the doorway crashed down on him like a violent storm at sea, he’d never felt this sensation before. Hesitantly, he opened the door to Thelen’s room, and was greeted with broken glass, torn fabric, and a crumpled, shirtless man sitting at the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

Calenhad tried his best to remain in his normal demeanor, but he’d never seen this from someone who had been so calm and quiet. “I can’t leave you alone for more than a minute, can I? Looks like I need to take this babysitting gig to full time.” He spoke in a hushed tone, and he slowly entered the room. Setting a hoof in through the doorway, that energy from before spiked and nearly pushed him back. Another step, another wave. The grew stronger as he made it further into the room, only to be greeted, finally, by a faint voice.

_ Don’t come any closer. Stay away. _

“If you didn’t want me here you’d have tried to force me out. Emphasis on try, considering I’m three times your size.” Calenhad continued on, this time gingerly reaching a hand out towards the smaller.

_ I’m serious, Calenhad. Please, just turn around and walk away. _

“Not gonna happen, pal. If you want me out, push me out.”

Finally Calenhad reached the end of the bed, and he sat down on the floor, tucking his legs beneath his body and shifting to get comfortable. He was preparing to be here all night.

Thelen wiped at his eyes a bit, making sure he didn’t have anything on his face before looking up to Calenhad. Gazing over his features, the younger could really see Thelen’s age showing. War, with others and himself, had made a presence in the wrinkles surrounding his eyes and in the scars that littered his body. For thirty-three years old, Thelen looked like he’d gone through a midlife crisis twice. Calenhad felt bad for him.

“Now,” he murmured. “You wanna tell me why you had this little tantrum?” A hand perched itself next to Thelen’s leg, gently drumming his fingertips against the poor excuse of a mattress. It took a while for Thelen’s brain to properly collect the words he was looking for, but when they were found, he let them drip from his lips with ease.

_ I um… I almost had a relapse. _

“A relapse?”

_ Yeah. Been addicted to Milk of the Poppy for… Well, I forgot how long. Then again, I wasn’t really counting to begin with. It was the reason everything went to shit in the first place; I wanted to chase that dragon and not have to think about anything else, and because I was foolish, I lost everything that meant somethin’ to me. My fiance, my daughter. I was lucky to get one of them back, but if I wouldn’t have started in the first place, both of them would be here right now. _

Being able to talk to someone about this lifted a weight off of Thelen’s shoulders. He’d been holding back for so long, that letting one word through opened the floodgates. And to Calenhad, of all people, he thought that man would have been last on his “People to Complain to About Your Trauma” list.

“Listen, Thelen.” he started.

_ What, no sly insult or nickname? _

“Nah, I’m saving those for later. What I was going to say was that I understand your struggle. Maybe not in the same way, but, y’know. Comforting people isn’t something I’m great at. But what I can tell you now is that the shit you’ve done in the past could have been prevented, sure, but it’s too late to change that. All we can do is keep moving forward, and make the people we care about proud. An old friend of mine, Sixx, used to tell me that.”

_ He sounds wise. _

“He was.” There was a pause, and then silence. Thelen let his head fall back down between his shoulders, and he sighed through his nose. Right as he was about to get up, however, he felt a heavy hand fall onto his head, only to wrap the arm connecting it around his shoulders and pull him to rest on Calenhad’s chest. It was surprising enough that Calenhad had let Thelen touch him before, but initiating touch? 

He didn’t resist, though. He laid there on the larger’s chest, his head rising and falling with his steady breathing. Another hand came to rub at Thelen’s back, the rough calluses trailing searching patterns over the many instances of raised scar tissue. Together they sat in silence, they understood that words were unneeded. Eventually, Thelen’s own arm came to wrap around Calenhad’s chest as best as he could, and he gave another shaky breath. He felt vulnerable, and for once, he was thankful that he didn’t have to be stone-faced and lonely.

For once, he could relax.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another story about D&D ocs? It's more likely than you think.


End file.
